


Stargazing Has a Noble History

by jemariel



Series: More Than I Hoped For [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Business major Dean, Clothed Sex, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Marijuana, Photographer Castiel, Recreational Drug Use, Stoner Castiel, philosophical pillow talk, sculptor Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 12:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14236965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemariel/pseuds/jemariel
Summary: “Dean, shut up. You’regood.Have you seen yourself? You have an eye for dynamic lines and -- look, you’re obviously talented. Why aren’t you taking advantage of that?”The night air is growing cooler but Dean’s face feels like a red hot poker. “That’s what Ellen keeps telling me.”“Ellen? Ellen Harvelle? How do you know Ellen?”“She teaches my sculpting class. I had to take an elective, so.” He shrugs.“And how are you enjoying it?”Dean shakes his head. “I love it."A first.





	Stargazing Has a Noble History

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS MUCH to [Sharkfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish) ([reallyelegantsharkfish](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com/)) for the beta/cheerleading >:)

Charlie always throws the best parties. Dean’s not sure how he fell in with the art crowd on campus; being on the business end of things means he doesn’t get to venture that way often, but Charlie had been his first roommate and he watched her go through about five majors before settling on film, so now he finds himself regularly invited to shindigs at the house Charlie rents with some others a few blocks from campus. It’s a huge rambling affair, and she insists on calling it House Moondoor. 

Some nights, it’s D&D and bad movies. But tonight, House Moondoor is full of thumping music, low lights, and free-flowing cheap sugary booze.

Dean is a couple drinks deep when he wanders into the smoking room. There’s a haze near the ceiling but down on the pillows and beanbags, the air is clearer. He scans the faces - mostly people he more or less knows, and one face he definitely recognizes, even though they’ve only met once. Cas meets his eyes and smiles, and Dean’s heart beats faster.

Dean just edges in around the side of the circle, finding a spot a few pillows down. Their eyes keep meeting over the hookah bowl, and as the hose and a glass pipe and a joint all get passed around, Dean lets himself sink into the easy haze. People leave, other people come in, and Dean finds himself jostled down the pillows until he is suddenly right up against Castiel’s side.

“Hello,” Castiel says, deep and rumbling.

“Hi.” Dean flashes a grin and really hopes he doesn’t have anything in his teeth.

“You’re Dean, right? You modeled for my charcoal drawing class last week?”

“Yeah, that was me.” Fully clothed modeling, but Dean had felt exposed enough in the middle of the classroom, and he had not been able to stop staring at this one guy with the blue eyes and the intense look like he was trying to draw his soul instead of his face.

“Thank you for coming in, by the way. It’s surprisingly difficult to find good models.”

Dean chuffs at the implication that he was a ‘good model.’ “Really? I mean, the money isn’t much but it’s something.”

“It’s more if you get naked,” Cas informs him with mischief in his smile. 

That startles Dean into a nervous giggle. “I’m sure it is, but uh…. ” Dean shakes his head. “How’d your drawing turn out, by the way?” 

Cas rolls his eyes. “Not great. Nothing personal, you really were an excellent model. I just hate trying to create visual art by hand.”

“Why are you in that class, then?” Dean asks, and again he skips over the compliment.

“We’re supposed to take some kind of off-major art class and it was the one that fit my schedule,” Cas says with a shrug. The joint that’s going around comes back to him and he takes a long pull, then hands it to Dean before exhaling. “I’d love to get you in front of my camera sometime though.”

Oh god, the blushing is back. Dean is probably as high as he needs to be, really, but he takes a drag on the joint anyway to buy himself some time. “Really,” he says through the burn of the smoke. “And why is that?” Shit. He didn’t actually mean to ask that.

Cas’s eyes close halfway as he looks at Dean. “You have a good face. Good expressions. It’s not just that you’re handsome, though you are, it’s that -- you’re interesting.” Two fingers under Dean’s chin lift his face up toward the glow of the red-shaded lamp in the corner. “Yeah,” Cas sighs. “You’d be fun to photograph.”

“Hey quit bogarting that, man,” comes a different voice from Dean’s right. He pulls his chin out of Cas’s fingers and sees Garth with his hand outstretched, waiting for the joint.

“Oh shit - sorry.” Dean hands over the joint, still in his fingers and probably needing to be re-lit at this point. But that’s Garth’s problem now.

When he turns back, Cas has not moved; he’s still leaning halfway out of his bean bag chair toward Dean’s pillow. “Wanna go dance?” he asks out of nowhere.

“Uh. Sure.” Dean struggles up from his pillow, which is very difficult with his limbs all leaden, and tries not to watch how lithely and easily Cas gets to his feet.

They pick their way out through the pillows and legs, then down to the designated dancing area in what’s probably supposed to be a dining room. It’s a bit awkward, not really enough people milling around for a proper dance party, but the lights are low and the music is loud. Cas takes Dean by the wrist and pushes right up against him in the middle of the room. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Hell yes it’s ok. Dean’ nods and lets his hands slide the T-shirt around over Cas’s waist.

They may as well be in the middle of a crowded nightclub or the only people left on earth. Cas dances with flirty winks and smiles and incredible hips; Dean just tries to keep up. They dance closer and closer, heated and full of promise. They dance until it’s more like grinding, until Dean starts to get hard in his jeans and shivers when he feels that Cas is in the same boat.

“Wanna go somewhere?” Dean can’t believe he had the courage to ask that but Cas is grinning and nodding so it was clearly the right move.

Together they look all over the house for a bed, a chair, a closet, a secluded alcove, anything. All the good spots are taken. With each failed attempt, worry spins in Dean’s belly that Cas will get dragged off somewhere or meet someone more interesting or maybe that it just wasn’t meant to be. Then Cas says, “C’mon” and grabs his wrist, dragging him toward a window at the end of the hall.

The window opens onto the roof over the back porch. They can hear people down below, so Cas climbs higher, up over the attic until the rest of the party is a distant din. Dean’s belly quivers with the danger of it, the fall only ever a half-step away, but then Cas is urging him down to the rough rooftop. They end up in a wedge between the attic and a chimney, Cas lying full-length on top of Dean and leaning in to kiss him. It’s deep and dirty right from the start. Cas straddles his knees wide over Dean’s thighs; he is warm against the chill of the night, especially once he starts running hands all over Dean’s chest, his arms, his shoulders. For a long time it’s just slick hot open-mouthed tongues and lips, breathy little noises, the press of their chests together, their groins nestled and rolling into each other. Cas undoes the buttons of Dean’s shirt to scratch his fingertips and nails over Dean’s chest and belly. Dean snarls one hand in Cas’s hair, the other under his shirt to touch smooth skin. When he gets bolder and ventures down the back of his pants, he encounters only cool bare skin underneath. Lust boils through him. “You’re not wearing underwear -?”

“Why the hell would I be wearing underwear?” Cas asks right against the skin under Dean’s ear. 

“Good question.” Dean tries not to think about how there has only been one layer of clothing between him and Cas’s skin, and focuses on getting his hands around Cas’s plush ass cheeks.

They fall away when Cas scoots back just a little so he can get a hand up between Dean’s thighs too, but when he lays his palm over Dean’s cock, it seems a fair trade.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Cas grins against his lips.

“And you’re fucking gorgeous,” comes tumbling out of Dean’s mouth. “Just. All the time.”

Cas ducks his head. It’s hard to tell in the moonlight, but Dean thinks he might be blushing too. “You think?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “Definitely. Can I -?” He reaches for the fly of Cas’s jeans.

“Only if I can too.”

Their wrists bump awkwardly and Cas wins the race, his palm moving in to cup Dean through his boxers. “Shit,” Dean gasps, tensing up into the touch and shifting his legs, all over restless. When he slides his hand down between the open folds of Cas’s jeans, he’s met with wiry hair and the hot swell of Cas’s bare cock right there in his hand. He squeezes.

“Mmmmmmm,” Cas purrs, breathy as he pushes into Dean’s grip. “Lift your hips,” he says, and tugs down Dean’s pants and boxers. The roof is cold and scratchy against his ass but Cas is hot on top of him and Dean hisses when Cas takes both their cocks in his hand. Throws his head back so hard he knocks it on the roof with a thunk.

“Ow.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Even if he weren’t Dean could hardly stop arching up. Cas moves his hand in a lazy slide, but mostly he just fucks against Dean’s cock. It’s a little dry at first, but then Cas slicks some of his own precome down Dean’s cock and Dean’s brain whites out. He wants to taste. He wants to know what they taste like together. He grips his Cas’s hips tight and grinds up harder, harder, until - “AH” - with a cry that someone on the porch probably heard and a bone-deep shudder-snap, Dean comes in long spurts over their bellies.

“Fuck,” Cas murmurs, as Dean shakes beneath him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck -” and Cas is coming too, face buried in Dean’s neck, body twisting. Dean rubs his hands up the lines of his hips and waist and is a little bit sad they didn’t get to actually fuck. He’s sure Cas would feel amazing.

He’s not sure if he wants to let himself hope for a next time.

When Cas sits up, his hair is spiked in the moonlight and he’s grinning a lazy grin. Dean has to look away from his eyes -- they are too soft and too deep. Cas rolls off to the side and pulls a handkerchief out of his back pocket, mopping come off his hand and belly before handing it to Dean.

“Heh. Uh. Thanks,” Dean says. “Who the hell just carries around a handkerchief anymore?”

“Have you never heard of the hanky code?”

“The what?”

Cas’s eyeroll is dramatic. “Late 20th century gay culture is totally lost on the new generation.”

“Dude, we’re like the same age.”

“Know your history, then.”

Dean just laughs and shakes his head. “You want this back?” he asks, offering the soiled hankie.

“Toss it. I’ve got more.” Cas lays out on the rooftop, pressed together from knee to shoulder. Dean pulls his pants up and zips them, though Cas hasn’t bothered yet. The silence stretches around them.

“D’you want to go back inside?” Dean asks.

“Not yet,” Cas says, stretching his spine. “It’s nice out here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a one-hitter, already packed. Dean lays there with him as he smokes, watching the smoke drift in the moonlight, watching Cas’s face, enjoying the warmth of their shoulders snugged up against each other. He wants to take Cas in his arms, but he won’t.

“I miss the stars,” Cas says after a long moment.

Dean squints in confusion. “What, you… don’t get out much or something?”

“Kind of,” Cas shrugs. “But… Think about it. Every night for our entire history as a species, we’ve spent just like this.” He nudges Dean’s shoulder. “Up until the last couple hundred years. Think of the ancient Greeks telling stories about the stars. Think of early astronomers. Think of all the lovers who have had firsts just like this and then just… Stared at the stars. That’s what humans have always done. Stargazing has a noble history and it’s dying out. Now we watch movies instead, or just…. Internet.” He shakes his head. “We’ve lost something. Even if we do go outside now, there’s light pollution and -” he stops suddenly, catching Dean’s gaze. “Sorry. You came out here for a hand job, not to listen to me wax philosophical.”

“I don’t mind,” Dean says. “Seriously.” He could listen to Cas talk about the stars for hours. He could get lost in the moonlit cerulean of his eyes. _Shit._ This is bad. Too fast. Way too fast.

“What are you studying?” he asks, and goddamn it’s such a horrible question but it’s all he’s got to fall back on right now. “It’s not charcoal drawing, I know that much.”

“Photography,” Cas answers, taking the last drag off his one-hitter and pulling a face at the ash. “What about you?”

Dean cringes. This is why he hates that question. “Business analytics.” He tries to sound as casual as possible.

Cas snorts. “Seriously? Oh my god. And here I thought you were so much more interesting than that.”

“Well if that’s how you really feel, then I guess I’ll see you around.”

Cas catches his arm as he starts, half-heartedly, to get up. “Wait, wait, that came out wrong. I apologize.” And unlike every other human who has ever said ‘I apologize,’ he really sounds like he means it. “What I meant was… you _are_ more interesting than that. What are you doing in business analytics?”

Dean sighs. “Well, I gotta get a job after this, don’t I? My family’s putting themselves in some serious oh-shit debt to do this for me, and I’m only here because my little brother was smart enough to go to Stanford full-ride so the money that was for him came to me. I gotta do something useful, right? I gotta pay them back.”

“And you think ‘business analytics’ is the way to do that? You just googled ‘most profitable college majors’ and picked one at random, didn’t you?”

Dean shrugs. “I mean…. Yeah, basically.” 

There’s a brief but heavy silence before Cas asks: “Do you enjoy it?”

The lie should come easy. He’s been spitting it for a year. But it doesn’t. Under the stars like this, the truth comes out quiet. “I hate it. It just feels so… soulless.”

Cas hums a quiet “Hmm” that Dean feels rumbling through their shared rooftop. They watch the stars and breathe together for a little longer.

Finally Dean hears Cas inhale and hold for half a second before asking, “What would you study if you had your choice? If the lucrativity of your major weren’t an issue?”

“I’m not sure that’s a word,” Dean mutters, but Cas says nothing, clearly expecting an answer. And Dean finds the answer tripping off his tongue before he can stop it. “Sculpture.”

Cas sits up on an elbow, eyes bright. “You sculpt?”

Dean blushes. “A little.”

“Can I see? Do you have pictures?”

Dean digs his phone out of his pocket and navigates to the correct photo album. Cas just looks for long minutes; Dean keeps his mouth shut and stares at nothing. It’s mostly modeling clay, copper wire, scrap metal from the salvage yard -- a bird’s wing in flight, a nebulous ball of pretentious nothing, a bunch of other things that had felt right in Dean’s hands when he made them but he had no idea what they were supposed to be at the end. 

“Dean.”

“Yeah, it’s not much. Just something I do sometimes --”

“Dean, shut up. You’re _good._ Have you seen yourself? You have an eye for dynamic lines and -- look, you’re obviously talented. Why aren’t you taking advantage of that?”

The night air is growing cooler but Dean’s face feels like a red hot poker. “That’s what Ellen keeps telling me.”

“Ellen? Ellen Harvelle? How do you know Ellen?”

“She teaches my sculpting class. I had to take an elective, so.” He shrugs.

“And how are you enjoying it?”

Dean shakes his head. “I love it,” and he sounds like he’s admitting something horrible. “I love learning things I feel like I’ve known in my gut all along, but now I find out that they have names. And I love feeling like I’m --” _good at something_ , he doesn’t say “-- creating something tangible. Business is all just numbers, and not even fun numbers.” He sighs. “Go on. Say it. I know you’re thinking it.”

“Say what?” Cas is listening but also tapping idly at Dean’s phone.

“That I should change majors.”

“And why would I say a thing like that?”

“Are you trying to reverse-psychology me?”

Cas smirks at him. “Maybe. Maybe not. Do you think you should change majors?”

Dean thumps his head back down on the roof. “I don’t know,” he sighs. “No. The chances of actually making any money sculpting are, like… less than one in a million, right? Like, lightning-strike odds. Winning the lottery odds.”

“You’re actually much more likely to be struck by lightning - twice - than to win the lottery,” Cas says, then finally hands Dean’s phone back to him. “There.”

Dean frowns at his phone, suspicious. “What did you do?”

“I texted myself. Hope you don’t mind.”

Dean blinks at him, wrong-footed, but he tucks his phone back in his pocket. “Yeah - that’s fine.” And it’s really really more than fine, saves him the awkwardness of debating whether or not to ask, but he's still stuck on the major thing. He’d been gearing up to have that old fight again, but when Cas doesn’t seem to want to push, it’s almost disappointing. Like now that he doesn’t have anything to push against, he’s just going to fall right down into it.

“C’mon,” Cas says. “It’s getting cold up here.”

Cas hops and climbs nimbly down the roof and Dean scrambles after him. The party is jarringly bright and noisy after their quiet little rooftop world, and for a while Dean sticks close to Cas, trying not to feel pathetic and clingy but wanting to hold on while he could. But eventually Dean spies Benny and Charlie playing playstation games, and Cas drifts off who knows where, swallowed by the sea of revelry.

It’s a full hour before Dean pulls his phone out to see what Cas had texted. He sent himself a kissy face. Dean smiles, saves Cas’s number, and - after many long minutes of agonizing - sends a heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I have definite plans to turn this into a series, so let me know what you think! ^___^
> 
> Come find me on [on tumblr!](https://jemariel.tumblr.com/) [Reblog](https://jemariel.tumblr.com/post/172675453696/stargazing-has-a-noble-history) this story on its own or the [Series Master Post](https://jemariel.tumblr.com/post/181956602266/more-than-i-hoped-for-on-ao3-rating-mostly) to help spread the word.
> 
> Thank you!


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